Cat and Mouse
by randomfox
Summary: Cats toy with their prey before killing them. When a Hunter sees Zoey as prey, will she live long enough to escape before he is finished toying with her?
1. Chapter 1

**Left 4 Dead and all characters are property of Valve.**

**I haven't uploaded anything to here in forever! Probably cuz the system for uploading here is retarded. Anyway, I got Left 4 Dead recently (again) and after reading a few other stories about Hunters (mainly **_**The Misadventures of a Curious Hunter**_**, and **_**Protect that which is Beautiful**_**) I came up with this story.**

**I am a sick bastard.**

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Cat and Mouse_

A hunched form watched the four humans make their way into the city, a low guttural growl sounding in the back of his throat. He could hear them from here, the sloshing of their fresh, untainted blood, their hard labored breathing as they ran for their lives. It was beautiful in its own right, but along with their smell, the smell of fresh meat bringing back memories or warm blood running down his throat, made his mouth water. He screamed at the top of his lungs, and leap from his perch, the smell, sight, and sound of new prey driving him.

He slowed as his prey made it inside a building. He was hungry, and the knowledge of the human's existence itself drove him mad with hunger, but he was not stupid enough to charge them directly. They had weapons, hot metal that could shoot death, and if he did not hide from their sight, he would not live long enough to feast. He kept his distance, but followed his new prey, and watched as they cut their way through dozens of his lesser brothers to the top of the building, into a structure with glass for a roof, its insides littered with potted plants. Making sure they could not see him, he observed his new prey. There were four of them, three male, if he trusted what he smelled. The fourth was female, though that did not interest him much at the time. Meat was meat, no matter how much extra fat there was.

Suddenly, a roar could be heard overhead, making him jump in surprise, and he looked overhead to discover the source of the noise. He nodded in understanding when he saw it was one of those giant metal birds, the type that rained from the sky twelve suns ago, flying in the direction of its nest. He mentally berated himself for being surprised by something so trivial; he could have given his location away to his prey!

His mental discipline was cut short when he heard his prey making words at each other. He had long ago banished the concept of words from his mind, he was more than human now, but a flood of primal memories burst through his brain, and while he could not remember the meaning of the words exactly, he knew their meaning. The humans, his prey, were going to fight their way to the metal birds nest, where they hoped one would take them away from the city.

He would have spat in disgust. The nerve of this prey, _his _prey! He had been feasting on the tainted blood of his lesser brothers for eight suns, and he would sooner die then allow the first fresh meal to appear in his city to simply escape on the wings of a damn bird! His anger was almost enough to make him pounce one of them, and tear their flesh away as punishment for even thinking they could leave; but he managed to calm himself. He would wait until one separated themselves from the others before attacking. Such a tactic always made for an easy meal.

It did not take his prey long after forming their plan to begin their trek. He followed closely, hunched in hiding, and in preparation, watching his soon to be meal make their futile attempts across the rooftops. He chuckled to himself, thinking of picking them off one by one, when they were weakest: alone. He almost shuddered at the memory of his last meal. He was young, alone, and best of all, frightened. Meat always tasted better when it was lined with fear.

He growled in approval as he watched his prey shoot their way through countless numbers of his lesser brethren. He would not allow any of the others to claim his prey, but it was all the better when the prey themselves eliminated the competition. It was almost entertaining, watching them in their petty efforts to survive. They must have realized their destiny to be nothing more than a meal for him. The survival instinct could be an annoying thing.

He was jarred from his thoughts by a piercing, feminine scream. He looked down to see the one female wrapped in what appeared to be a wet, pink rope, being dragged away from the males. He followed the rope to its origin and saw one of his brothers, one he almost considered equal to himself. A cloud of green smoke surrounded his brother, his long tongue dragging the female towards him. He offhandedly remembered that the humans called this brother a 'Smoker'. Suddenly, the Smoker whipped his long tongue, flipping the female still in its grasps up to where the Smoker perched. She screamed as the Smoker prepared to dig into her flesh, as the males yelled in frustration, attempting to get to where the Smoker had pulled her in an attempt to save her.

Just as the Smoker was about to take tear into the female, who wouldn't stop screaming in terror, he screamed in anger and leaped at his brothers perch. He would not allow any others to claim his prey! When he landed, he swiped at the Smoker severing his tongue from his mouth, and the female was released. She grunted in surprise as the tongue uncoiled itself, freeing her, and she turned back to see what had happened. Her eyes widened when she saw as he slashed at the Smokers neck, and let the nearly decapitated body slump lifelessly into a pool of its own blood.

He turned on his heel, facing the still surprised prey. A large grin crossed his face as he assessed the situation: She was alone, too dumbstruck to react, and he also noticed she had lost her weapon when the Smoker ensnared her. It could not have been more perfect. Faster than lightning, certainly faster then she could stop him, he pounced her, pinning her arms down, and leaned forward to savor the scent of her fear before opening her jugular and ending her pitiful existence.

"Hunter!" he heard his female prey scream, probably as a panicked cry for help, and he was momentarily confused. Was she referring to him? They had come up with names for the rest of his brethren, so it was only natural that they had invented a name for his kind as well, he supposed. Hunter... he grinned in approval as the meaning of the word returned to his mind. If that was what they were calling his kind, he accepted it; surely it was a title that described him perfectly.

Her struggles tore him away from his thoughts, and he smiled with bemusement as she tried to escape his grasp. He would have allowed her to continue, if only so he could continue to drink in her fear, but his empty stomach beat his sadistic desires in urgency. He grabbed her by the neck, which made her stop struggling, and he looked down at her fear filled eyes as the realization of her fate trickled into her mind. The Hunter raised his other hand over his head, ready to make the killing blow. She closed her eyes, as if it would hurt any less by not seeing it coming.

He brought his claw down, aiming for her eyes...

And stopped, genitally circling around her closed eyelid, before tracing down to her cheek. She opened them in surprise, having expected the cold pain of a killing blow, not this gentle probing. The Hunter couldn't help but chuckle at her ever widening eyes as he released her neck, leaned forward, and grinned as she winced in pain when he let the claw that was once his index finger pierce the soft flesh of her cheek, carving a symbol onto her delicate face. He brought his claw to his mouth, and licked at the trace amount of her blood from it.

Doing so made her struggle again, something the Hunter could only continue to laugh at. Both of them stopped when they heard the males' voices getting louder, a sign that they were getting closer, and would surely kill him if he continued toying with his prey this way. He looked back down at her, and saw the hope in her eyes, the small chance that she would be saved forcing away any fear she once let consume her. He wrapped his hand around her neck, thinking how delicious she would taste if those hopes were destroyed right here and now.

But there could be even more fun had if he allowed her to live so he could toy with her more, if only for a while longer. He coughed, her face twisting with disgust when his rancid breath hit her face. It took some effort to remember, to remind his vocal chords of the words they once spoke, and to get them to speak them again. He was determined to let this prey know what she was, and it was worth resorting to their inferior language to instill that truth in her.

He leaned in closely, putting his mouth to her ear. He was amused as she uttered a soft gasp, (perhaps she thought he was going to bite into her neck) He was even more pleased by her bewilderment when he whispered those words to her,

"My prey."

Immediately after forcing out those words, he leaped away, leaving her lying there, stunned. From his new perch, he watched as the three males got to her, amazed that she was still alive. Again, they spoke to each other, no doubt asking her what happened, but before she could answer the eldest male pointed to her cheek. When she brought her hand to it, she discovered what symbol the Hunter had marked her with, and the Hunter could not help but laugh to himself at her look of distress.

An "H" would forever scar her cheek, marking her as his, the Hunters prey. He growled in arrogance as they were forced to continue, less they fall to his lesser brethren. At this point, however, he could care less about what happened to the males. All he cared about now was the female, "Zoey" he heard one of them call her. Zoey...

She was his prey now, and he would never stop hunting her.

This was going to be fun.

_End Ch. 1__**  
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**In case you didn't figure it out, this takes place in the Dead Air campaign. Why? Cuz it's my fav! If you've never played Left 4 Dead... Google it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Left 4 Dead is still not mine. Which sucks, because if I did own it, the AI Director would be a lot more sadistic.**

**From now on, every even numbered chapter will be written from Zoey's POV. It will also be in first person. My reasoning is, when you play as the humans, you're playing an FPS; when you're playing as the infected, you die (a lot) and spend most of the time in spectator mode. Aren't I clever?**

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Cat and Mouse Ch. 2_

For the 13th time, I ran my finger over the mark on my cheek. I guess I kept hoping it would go away, like the remnant of a bad dream, like a Hunter didn't just pounce on me and mark me as its prey (I guess I had been feeling that a lot since the whole 'zombie apocalypse' thing happened) But sure enough, like a cut in my very soul, it was there; a capitol H scarred onto my right cheek; H for Hunter.

The first thing that popped into my head after it happened was, "I guess this means they know about the names we gave them." I didn't share that with the guys, of course. They'd think I was insane. I mean, just because it was my first thought doesn't mean it's the one that keeps going through my head! Hands down, the thought I kept having over and over again was "Holy Shit! A rabid zombie is probably watching everything I do RIGHT NOW!" Not a very comforting thought.

Suddenly, a loud, succession of honking and beeping tore through my thoughts, and I turned to see Francis with his shotgun pointed at a red car, with its alarm blaring, a dozen bullet holes in the front window screen.

"Francis! What the hell man!?" Louis yelled over the noise of the car alarm. Bill didn't say anything, but he looked like he wanted to blow the bikers head off. Francis only shrugged under our angry glares.

"What? I thought I saw one of those vampires in there." He smiled as the alarm continued to sound off. Before I could correct him, (They're zombies, not vampires!) a wail broke through the noise of the car alarm, a sound that made my blood run cold, a sound that meant only one thing.

"RUN LIKE HELL!"

I wasn't even sure if they heard me, but it wasn't like they needed to. Within seconds, dozens of grey-pale creatures that could not be classified as human swarmed upon us. They climbed over fences and spilled through windows of the buildings we just came from, running, jumping, even crawling over one another to get to the four of us; : The fresh meat.

Without thinking, I aimed my duel pistols, and began firing into the "Horde", as we so affectionately referred to it. The others followed my example, shooting madly into the crowd. Running backwards, we tried to make our way to the safe room inside the hotel, without taking our eyes off the incoming mass living corpses. A shiver of panic went through my mind when my pistols ran out of ammo; a dull clicking replaced the bangs of gunfire they previously emitted. I started shoving the infected back, beating them with my semi-useless firearms, and for some reason, the fear I normally felt when I looked into those white, lifeless eyes was missing. For some reason, I wasn't afraid of these "common" infected anymore. It was probably because a new figure haunted the fear section of my brain.

Then I felt someone grab me by the arm, and pull me back. Before I knew it, I was in Louis' arms as Bill shut the red door of the safe room. I was safe! "Oh man! Thanks Louis! I thought I was a goner!" I had thought that, but there were so many other things going through my head I hadn't realized it.

I looked up to see the guys confused, frowning faces. Did I say something? "I didn't do anything, Zoey." I looked over at Louis, confused by what he said. From how he looked, he was confused by what I said as well.

"Last time I saw you, kid, you were getting swarmed by those infected." Bill stated gruffly (always with the gruffness. Was that a John Wane wannabe rule or something?)

"I was about to head back out to get you when you jumped on in here!" Francis added, furthering my confusion.

"B-but, I felt someone grab me, and pull me inside!" I was sure of it. Then a cold realization came over me; what if I wasn't pulled, I had been thrown in, by strong infection altered arms? I pictured a crouching, hooded infected, looking at me with hungry, selfish eyes. It felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

"Hey, are you ok Zoey?" I felt Francis' hand on my shoulder, comfortingly. "Ever since that thing with the Hunter, you've been wondering off into la la land a lot." He was right. I had been daydreaming way too often ever since that happened. It was probably going to get me killed.

"Well, maybe she wouldn't have gotten in trouble if you hadn't caused that car alarm to go off! What the hell was that about!?" Louis yelled at Francis, who just rolled his eyes and explained that he needed his kill count to be higher than Bills (A valid argument.)

As the two men went at each other, with Bill trying to keep the peace, I couldn't help but start day dreaming again; about that Hunter again, surprise surprise. This time, I didn't think about him slicing my stomach open, gutting me alive, like I normally did. This time I thought about him saving me, freeing me from the grasps of the normal infected and making sure I survived. The more I mulled this over, the more one thought kept coming back to me: "He must be very possessive."

"All right, I think it'd be best if we all just turned in early! Today has been pretty hard, especially for Zoey, so it'd be a good idea to get some rest." The other two stopped fighting when Bill mentioned me. Normally, I'd have been annoyed, but I really DID need some sleep. Surely the comfort of a bed will keep me from thinking about stalker zombies who want me all to themselves.

Unsurprisingly, I got no sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him; that Hunter. Again and again I ran my fingers over that mark until I couldn't stand it anymore! I couldn't just lie in a sleeping bag, I needed to move around. I couldn't be cramped up in this little room with three MEN sleeping around me. Even though the infected had stopped making noise hours ago, the entrance to the safe room was blocked, so I had no choice but to leave through the exit. Just to get some air, of course.

We were still in a hotel building, though, so not a lot of fresh air, but it was better than the safe room, and there was plenty of room to pace around in. I gripped my pistol tight as I walked around, just in case something should jump out at me. Of course, like I had jinxed myself, a low guttural growl came from an open door to my left. I whipped in that direction, pistol at the ready, light shinning, and I held my breath, prepared to face… nothing. This room was Hunter free. I let my arms drop, relief surging through me. For a minute, I actually wanted to find that Hunter, confront my fears and whatnot.

Then I heard a loud growl in my ear. Before I could turn around, strong, clawed arms grabbed my shoulders and turned me, facing the special infected, and he slammed me against the wall. A second of pain was enough to make me drop the pistol. I was defenseless. Instantly, every single thought I'd had about this thing killing me flashed through my head all at once, and then it was all gone; leaving me alone with this Hunter staring at me with some amused, sadistic grin on his face (did my fear make for good entertainment?)

How stupid was I? Leaving the safe room, with nothing but a pistol, just because I couldn't sleep? Without Bill, Francis, or Louis to help me, any of the special infected could have caught me! I could have startled a Witch, or ticked off a Tank, or countless other things that honestly weren't as bad as getting pinned by this one particular Hunter. Now all I could do was wait for him to fulfill one of my terrifying day dreams. I was hoping for a quick death, but somehow I doubted that's what he had in mind.

But he never did anything. He didn't gut me, dismember me, even bite me. He just gazed at me, grinning. I noticed his nose flaring, and I realized he was smelling me! Was he one of those people (I use that term loosely) who sniffed the hell out of food before eating it? Then I remembered something the helicopter pilot who saved us back at Mercy Hospital said:

"Blah blah blah, I swear those things can sense hope!..."

They could sense hope, which would explain why they came running every time we called for rescues, so maybe they could sense FEAR too! What if they could smell it? That's what he was doing, smelling my fear, savoring it like I was some fucking bacon!

"Like hell!" I banged my head foreword; our foreheads connecting with a sickening crack, making him release his grip on me and stumble back a few steps. Apparently I was good at head butting (ohh look at the pretty dancing stars) I jumped for my gun, the flashlight on it still shining, but he got there first, kicking it away, and pouncing on me, emitting one of their trademark screeches.

I must have blacked out for a second, because the next thing I knew I was under him, his hand holding me by the neck, keeping me down, his other hand pointed at my face like a five bladed dagger. I wiggled around, struggling to get out from his grasp, but it was no use. I was dead. "Just finish it!" I spat at the hooded figure atop me.

He gave a look of surprise (apparently you can catch the infected off guard) before breaking into one of his disgusting little chuckle sessions.

"Not kill… yet." His voice sounded like sand paper, like it hurt him to speak. I was surprised he was talking at all. I had convinced myself that when he told me I was his prey (shudder) it was something my fear exhausted brain had had invented; but here he was, telling me he wasn't going to kill me… Not yet anyway.

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop myself. I didn't expect an answer either way, but then I felt his claws over the H on my cheek. No sharp, stinging pain, like before. He was just tracing over it. Somewhere in the back of my head, I noted it felt like the touch of a lover.

"No fun… Hunt continues." He rasped. Then he released my neck, and lifted me into his arms, and carried me back o the safe room. Either I was too shocked by what was happening, or my body was just so exhausted it didn't react, I don't know. It was probably a mix of both. Suddenly my feet touched the ground, and I wobbled a little, before I felt his hands hold me steady. I was just beginning to think about what the hell was going on, when I felt him whisper in my ear, "My prey… No one else's." Then he was gone.

I leaned back against the red door of the safe room, taking hold of my pistol in its holster, like if I gripped it hard enough I'd come back to the real world. Then I remembered I dropped my pistol, and the Hunter must have put it back in its holster, and I needed to sit down.

I stayed out there for three minutes, my brain in total shock.

What the hell was going to happen to me?

_End Ch. 2__**  
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**I wrote this while watching the "top 100 scariest movie moments" on youtube, and when The Hitcher was showed, I thought "heeey, now there's a movie for me" XP**

**Thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate it! You motivated me to finish writing this chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This took too long to write ^^' Future updates might be slow as well, since I'm gonna try to focus on other projects as well. But I'm not giving up on this story! Imma see it to the end if it kills me!**

**Any who, this chapter is dedicated to those wonderful times when every player on the infected team is a Hunter XP**

_Cat and Mouse Ch. 3_

Hunting had always been a necessity to live. To eat, He hunted. Fresh human meat was rare, so He usually had to settle for tainted, boring infected meat. He had enjoyed the last few moments of what few humans He had hunted; those fear filled moments had provided some entertainment, but hunting had never been about what little sadistic pleasures He had in those short seconds before snuffing out the spark of life in his prey. Hunting for sustenance… before now.

Ever since first laying bloodshot eyes on his new prey, a purpose that went beyond filling His stomach fueled His action that He could not explain. He wanted nothing more than to cut her jugular in half and spill her life giving blood onto the floor, but for some reason, He did not want to do it just yet. Even as He watched her, and the males of her group, exit their "safe room" in the shadows, growling in hunger, He held himself back. Perhaps He would ponder His motives the next time He dragged her into the dark and drank in her fear.

In the meantime, His empty stomach demanded attention.

After making sure His prey would be protected while He was away, He leapt through one of the windows in the room He hid in, and made His way to a nearby supermarket. When human meat had become as uncommon as it was, He had learned that a "Prime Rib" or "Kobe Beef" steak was almost as good as fresh human; especially if it was bloody.

Most of the meat had been swiped up by his lesser brothers when the supply of humans ran low, but He managed to hide twice a dozen of the best "steaks", a supply that still held up when His stomach wouldn't tolerate anything less than pure, raw, bloody meat. His saliva production doubled, controlled by animal instinct, as He thought of sinking His teeth into one of the rawest steaks He had, saved especially for moments like these. He had to marvel at His own superior instinct; primal urges beat human "intellect" any day.

When He finally made it to His hiding place, His jaw dropped. He saw three infected, of His own kin, engorging themselves on His supply of meat. They had eaten it all, clearly with no thought to rationing it over time as He had, all two dozen slabs of life giving meat, gone. He would have thrown up in disgust and rage were His stomach not so empty.

It was then that one of the other Hunters, the smallest one of the group, approached Him, dropping half of the steak he had been enjoying at His feet. He looked down at the younger Hunter quizzically, the smaller one bowing submissively under the gaze. He was not sure if this young, inexperienced Hunter was trying to offer Him a place into their pack, or if he was acknowledging Him as an alpha and was offering a piece of the spoils out of respect.

The ignorance! He wanted nothing more but to rip this diminutive excuse for a Hunter into shreds before doing the same to the other two for eating HIS supply of food, and then offering Him a small piece of it, as if He should be humbled by the notion! He growled angrily, making the less experienced Hunter before Him shrink back, but it also caused the other two, of His own size, to rise from their meals, prepared to fight for their younger kinsmen's' safety. The hooded infected frowned, and looked back down at the offered meal. He could not fight two fully fed, equally experienced Hunters while his own belly growled in protest at its emptiness. Begrudgingly, He hunched down, and began eating the small offering it was not as much as he had set out for, but it would fill his stomach for the time being, and that would be enough.

The four Hunters ate in a tense peace. When He finally finished, he left them, slicing a threesome of lesser infected to vent His frustration. Let them pick at His scraps! In His mind's eye, He saw prey truly worthy of fighting over. He did not want her out of His presence for any longer.

It was easy to find her scent among the sea of the lesser infected, but He was momentarily curious when a different aroma mixed with hers, one He was not familiar with. When He found her, and her group, still on the rooftops, He saw her handling some sort of red container. He wondered what could be in such a container.

Suddenly, after dropping the container, His prey let out a shout of confirmation, which the large male, Francis, took as a signal to pull a switch on some sort of large metal contraption. The moment he did, the large machine started moving, making a metallic noise that could be compared to the shriek of one of the bound infected. The Hunter frowned in disappointment as the metal howling of the machine; surely the humans knew such a noise would attract the horde. Did they give no through to His preys' safety, or even their own?

His gaze then fell upon His prey, and He saw her, weapon at the ready, and His eyes widened when He did not smell any fear emanating from her. She was completely unafraid, even as the hundreds of lesser infected swarmed their position, and a feeling He had almost forgotten overwhelmed Him, swelling through His chest; He felt pride. He was proud of His prey, that she felt no fear, even when death itself charged her. He shook His head, pushing his feeling, and his confusion over them, aside, telling Himself it did not matter how brave she acted; she was still going to die, from the hands of the lesser infected no less.

Then she shot the red container, and an ocean of flames erupted, much to His surprise, enveloping the mindless horde, the lesser infected slumping to the ground, burning alive. The Hunter laughed aloud at the sight, both in apathy at His brainless brethren, and at the cunning of His preys' trap. The entertainment the sight provided made up for His semi-empty stomach, and "Zoeys" newfound courage, and His own feelings of pride at its development, were worth some looking into. Surely this was the best, and most rewarding, hunt He had ever been on.

After minuets of fighting off the horde, the Hunter was very satisfied that not a whiff of fear came from Zoey. The group of humans moved on, using the dumpster the machine had set in place for them to continue their roof hopping. Before long though, the eldest human, Bill, held up a closed fist, and the other three stopped, all completely silent. The soft weeping that rang out in the new silence confirmed why. A Witch.

The Hunter grinned from ear to ear.

The Witch was almost directly in their path, but they had room to walk around her, slowly. If they got too close, or made any noise, the Witch would tear them apart. The Hunter would not allow that to happen to Zoey, of course, but the opportunity to toy with His prey was to perfect to pass up.

With a blood curdling screech, he leapt with all the strength his super infected legs could give him, and landed, perfectly, right where he had aimed for: right beside the Witch as Zoey was sneaking past her. His prey would have screamed if he hadn't put his hand over her mouth, making a shushing gesture for good measure. Luckily, the Witch made no indication that it had been startled… but if one of Zoeys' companions tried to shoot him, the Witch would turn on them, which was what He was counting on. They wouldn't risk the Witch tearing them to shreds just to get Him.

He was satisfied to see that her newfound bravery did not apply to Him. Her eyes flooded with fear, almost reflecting the nightmare of his tearing her open, a sight he would look forward to making a reality. In another world, outside the one that only existed between Hunter and Prey, the males fought over what to do, about how to save their pack mate. They all knew it was pointless though; even humans still possessed the animal instincts to know not to risk the well being of the pack to save an individual. He could admire that about them, at least. Right now He was content with drawing out Zoeys' fear for as long as He could.

Then the Hunter saw something on the roof across from them, and tore His gaze away from his prey to see the thieves: The three Hunters who stole into his supply of steaks. They must have followed Him, hoping for another free meal. The largest Hunter of the pack growled a challenge; he wanted Zoey too, while the other two set their sights on the other three humans, who were still focused on Him as he held Zoey. For twenty seconds, everything was held by a tense silence even the Witches sobs could not break.

Then all hell broke loose.

The Alpha Hunter of the pack sprung at Zoey, intending a killing blow, but Zoeys' Hunter, tossed her to the side, so he received the full force of the Alphas blow. It sent them tumbling, knocking the Witch on her back, which the two Hunters were oblivious too as they tore at every exposed area of the other that they could reach. If they had been aware of the startled Witch, they would have realized they had five seconds to run as far and as fast as they could but they didn't, so when she turned her claws on them, they were taken completely by surprise; but by then it was too late.

At the same time, Francis was ready to blast a hole through all three of the fighting infected, when the small Hunter pounced on him and started ripping at his jacket, trying to get his first claw-full of sensitive, ripe human flesh. It was about to get its first mouthful, its first taste of a real hunt, when Bill shot him in the head. A screech of rage rang out, and the last Hunter made a mad pounce for Bill, driven into a blind fury by the sight of his kin being killed. Halfway to his target, he was shot out of the air, the bang of the hunting rifle sounding above the noise of the furious Witch.

The black skinned human, Louis, dragged a petrified Zoey, her rifle clutched in her trembling hands, away from the Witch, who was turning one of the Hunters into infected confetti. Then the silencing crash of an auto-shotgun being fired rang out, the now headless Witch corpse slumped to the ground.

When the dust cleared, the final body count was one Witch and three Hunters dead.

And He laughed aloud at the sight of Zoey's face when she realized he survived.

_End Ch. 3_

**I was really unhappy with the ending of this chapter, but I edited it a bit, so I'm ok with posting it, though I still think it could be better.**

**Thank you guys for the reviews, and favs! It's really encouraging me to keep working on this thing =D Three chapters!? That's a record for me XP what's the average page count for chapters, you think? I count ten pages in most of my books, and I do about six pages per chapter ^^' Is that a sign of something?**


	4. Chapter 4

**I've had the flu for the past couple of days, so I haven't been able to work on this as much as I'd liked to. But I'm down to a bad cough, and only a slight fever, so I can finally write this chapter... Hope you appreciate it.**

**And to clear something up, before any of you start hoping for anything: This isn't a pairing story. It's a fucked up story, but there will be no actual fucking. If you were only reading this cuz you were hoping that's what would happen, sorry to disappoint... well, not really sorry I disappointed you, I write for me and no one else (unless they commission me) What I am sorry for is you might stop reading something I worked hard on just cuz you wanted a different subject matter. How shallow are you?**

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_Cat and Mouse Ch. 4_

it took the guys five minutes to get me moving again after the brawl. Normally taking that long to move would have been rewarded with a horde attack, but some greater power must have felt like we needed a break after a crescendo event, and an encounter with four Hunters and a Witch. I would have felt more inclined to thank whatever God was deciding to pay attention to us all of a sudden if my Hunter wasn't still out there (My Hunter in the 'he is hunting me' sense, not the 'he's like my pet' sense)

How that bastard lived was anyone guess, but I was sure the guys had more than a few questions about how I knew the one that had taken an interest in me was the one that escaped. After a short grilling session from Francis, Bill convinced him to lie off until I got some R&R. I _have_ been through a lot, you know.

I wouldn't be a burden though. The safe room was still a building and a half away, and I refuse to be carried. I'm not scared of the common infected... for some reason, and I can still shoot my gun. I could be compared to Sigourney Weaver in female badassery!

My inner pep rally was interrupted when we got to an office building. The only one of us who could have seen so many cubicles before was Louis. I let him know that, much to the delight of the others. If I was ok enough to engage banter, I'd be ok enough to get through this alive. Well, I'm sure that's what they thought before the roar of a Tank shook the building.

The behemoth crashed through the cubicles (poor Louis. He loved his decretive knickknacks so.) Trampling any of the common infected that were unlucky enough to get in his way. I waited for the anxious fear of the impending attack, followed by death, but like my fear of the common infected, it never came. I tried to figure out if that was a good thing or not. An unspoken plan was formed, and the four of us made our way back to the roof of the office building, filling the Tank with as much lead as we could spare. Once on the roof, we all formed near a ledge, daring the steroid loving infected to charge us.

It did. I used up all but one bullet of my hunting rifle, waiting for the last possible second before jumping away, as did the guys, out of the Tanks path, causing the freight train like mass over the edge. He plummeted an uncountable amount of stories to the bottom floor, a sickening, yet reliving crash signaling the end of his decent. As the guys got reorganized, Louis expressing his pride that the plan he had thought up during our final stand at the Mercy Hospital was still effective, I looked over the edge of the building, and fired my last bullet into the Tanks head. I wasn't about to let the "one last scare" rule screw us.

As I walked in front of the guys, leading them back down into the office building, I couldn't help but grin at their looks of approval, especially Francis. Even after getting stalked by a Hunter, along with the whole "college girl in the zombie apocalypse" image I had going on, I still had the balls to make sure a passable nuisance stayed dead. Ellen Ripley could eat her heart out.

The rest of our trip to our third safe room was relatively uneventful; as uneventful as anything done during the zombie apocalypse could be anyway. We all breathed a sigh of relief when that beautiful red door closed. Safe, for the time being. And I definitely wasn't leaving this room alone again. I had enough encounters with crazy Hunters for one day.

It wasn't long before the questions started to fly, however. I had barely finished my last spoonful of fruit cocktail before Francis gruffly asked, "How are you so sure that psycho Hunter is still out there?"

Francis' outburst seemed to remind the other two that things were FUBAR (effed up beyond all recognition, as Bill informed me when we first met.) The questions ranged from the unanswerable, like, "Why is that thing following you around anyway?" to the macho BS, "Why don't you just shoot it if it grabs you away again?" to the downright absurd, "Don't you think that 'H' makes you look like a masochist?"

As much as I assured them I would explain I found myself at a loss for words. Even talking about... _him_ seemed to send me into a state of shock. Which made me bring up a question myself, "Why is _he_ the only thing that scares me now?" I didn't say that out loud of course. I didn't want them worrying about me, or worse, thinking I'm crazy anymore than they already were. After an uncomftarible amount of time spent sitting there dumbly as they pounded question after question at me, Bill wrapped me in a blanket, and recommended I turn in early. Bill always seemed to come to my rescue (And I thought Francis was the one with the crush on me)

A few hours went by, and of course, I couldn't get any sleep. It didn't help that the guys weren't arguing as quietly as they thought they were. Their debate came to a head at the, "leave her behind" option, but had somewhat quieted down when Francis stated that, "I didn't want this to become a sausage festival anyway." Eventually, they all got to sleep, while I was left with my thoughts. I think I preferred fighting the Tank.

My waking nightmare was broken by the feeling of rancid breath on my neck. I had made the, in retrospect, stupid mistake of sleeping by the window on the second floor of the safe room, because "the night air would be good for me." The thought that it would also be good for stalking infected didn't accure to me at the time, unfortunately.

Before I could move, I felt a firm hand on my neck, filling me with the fear that it would snap if I tried to escape. Then I heard that all too familiar chuckle at my helpless state. As much fear as I had the anger that boiled inside me at the sound of that amusement drove me to action. I reached up and grabbed the Hunters arm, and pulled him forward, banging him into the bars the kept him from entering the safe room. That moment of distraction was all I needed to twist out of his grip, and shuffle far enough out of his reach that I wouldn't be a danger.

I don't know why, but for some reason I think it would have been less terrifying to see that Hunter there, hanging onto the bars, his arm still reaching in, laughing at my temporary attempts at freedom. Instead, I saw nothing but the night's sky. I almost wanted to take one of my pistols and blow my own brains out, rather than go one more day of this torment. I got all the way to holding the gun to my temple before my survival instincts won out, and I crawled down to the first floor, and huddled into the fettle position. Crying brought me to sleep far too quickly.

I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take.

_End of Ch.4  
----_

**I don't have L4D anymore, so I wasn't able to confirm is that second floor window exists, but from memory I'm pretty sure. All well, other writers have screwed up continuity worse then I *shrug***

**In this chapter, you can see my Alien fan boy-ism... If you look hard enough and squint of course.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I been in Vegas for a few days, and unfortunately I wasn't able to get any writing done. Much the suckage. **

**Left 4 Dead is not mine, but if it was, I would delete all the Xbox live accounts of the people who are boycotting Left 4 Dead 2.**

---  
_Cat and Mouse Ch. 5_

It had rained that night. The Hunter shook his shoulders from side to side, shaking the water from his body in an attempt to stay wet instead of soaking. The humans could move at any time, and he did not want to fall too far behind them. He did not want to miss a moment of his prey's ventures if he could help it. The memories of their encounter were still fresh in his mind, though they happened hours ago. The wafting memory of her tears, the scent breaking through the throng of the tainted smells from his lesser cousins, brought a grin to his face. Then he sneezed, and growled in annoyance as he wiped his face with the soaking arm of His jacket. The morning was coming much too slowly for his liking.

When morning did come, however, he still had to wait. His prey must have still been traumatized by his treatment of her the night before, so the group of humans was reluctant to begin their trek. His keen sense of smell told him that their breakfast was taking longer than it normally did, since he did not dare to peer through one of the windows, so he guessed they were planning on what they were to do should they encounter him once again. His prey's male companions were annoyingly protective; not unlike himself, though his motives for protecting Zoey definitely differed from theirs. After two hours, he sighed deeply, and was about to seek a breakfast of his own, when the red, metal door of the "safe room" swung open. Much to the Hunters surprise, Zoey was the first one to step out, and her companions did not follow for five full seconds. He could smell their surprise and hesitation in the air.

It took the Hunter a minute to ponder what had occurred: The males, Louis, Francis, and Bill, were debating on what their course of action should be, considering their unique situation. Zoey must have grown tired of their conversation, and she decided that actions were better than words, which lead to her pre-emptive exiting of their safe zone. Clearly, when the Hunter was not present, his prey was still very much unafraid. Although he still could not discern why, the feeling of pride once again flowed through the Hunter. Prey though she was, she was showing excellent pack leadership skills. He grinned at the realization that he had chosen their Alpha as his prey; Quite a prize for a lone Hunter such as himself.

The four humans grouped tightly around each other, the three males obviously trying to defensively place themselves around Zoey, though she looked as if she could care less, and lead the way down the small ally. The Hunter wondered if she would retain such an attitude if he were to pounce her now. The thought of her reaction amused him, and his empty stomach urged him to do it, but his common sense kept him from acting on his thoughts. Eventually, the humans made to it a barrier. A group of humans before them had set up a barricade to protect themselves. The Hunter noted it was a vain attempt when he smelled the decaying, uninfected body's near the site. His prey wore a grim face when they realized their only choice was to burn down the barricade, and act that would surely attract the horde. He also saw a spark of fear in Zoey's eyes, and he grinned when he realized she was afraid he would use the impending onslaught to attack her.

He decided he would not attack her, desperate though he was. There were simply too many opportunities for something to go wrong, and he would not let his efforts go to waste simply because of a lapse in self control. His stomach let out a gurgle, which was not helped by the scent of her delicious fear, mixed with the ash of the burning wood. It brought back primal memories from his life before he evolved; an event that involved cooking meat over a flame. Such methods were beneath him now, however. He much preferred the taste of raw flesh being ripped, and the taste of warm blood running over his tongue and down his throat.

Such thoughts were enough to drive any sense of survival out of his mind, his body being filled with the irresistible urge to kill and feast. He scanned the scene before him: the horde had not yet attacked, but their cries of hunger and undirected rage rang through the air. The humans were taking up defensive positions within the hollowed out building, and he growled in annoyance when he saw his prey flanked on all sides by the three males; but he quickly devised a plan when he noticed they were standing near an open window.

Soon the horde was upon them, and their thoughts deviated from protecting Zoey to holding off the attacking infected. The Hunter perched atop one of the pillars just outside the hollow building they were making their stand in, and waited for the inevitable. It did not take long before the fat lumberings of a Boomer joined the crowd of common infected, and it took an even shorter amount of time for one of the more impulsive males to fire on it. The fragile infected died quickly, and the vile smell of his bile filled the air as it splattered over - and blinded - the unprepared humans.

Now was his chance.

He screeched a battle cry, and sprang with all his might at his prey. His careful timing was rewarded when his claws closed around familiar soft flesh, and precise aim was rewarded still with a prolonged, yet satisfying impact; the force of his jump had knocked his prey off her feet, and sent them both out the unfinished window. The fall did no serious harm to her, which he was grateful for since he wanted to be responsible for any of her injuries, but it did knock the wind out of her. His bloodlust flowing through him more than ever, he did not even remember to restrain her as he barred his fangs, prepared to sink his teeth into her.

Just as he thrust forward to take a bite out of his prey, she managed to regain her senses enough to jam her arm into his mouth, blocking him from his intended target, her neck. Blinded by his need for blood, he bit down, barely piercing through her clothing, and slashed his claws wildly, ripping at her clothes and flesh. He wasn't in the right state of mind to know if he was even making contact with her; all he knew was he wanted her dead, that this hunt needed to end, and he craved the taste of her blood on his tongue.

They struggled for an agonizing amount of bloodless minutes before the Hunter was thrown off his prey by an, in his bloodlust driven state, unrecognizable force. His last shreds of common sense that still clung to his hunger maddened mind screamed at him to flee; he listened to it, and jumped to the rooftops, still half blind in rage, when the crashing bang of a shotgun firing brought him back to his senses. And his senses told him to keep jumping.

After he was seven rooftops away from what would have been his death, the Special Infected did what he could to tie his mind back together. His primal need for blood and death had gotten the better of him, and following such desires would only lead to death. He needed to be calm, calculating, and smarter than his prey; above his own animalistic lust for meat. Only after he brought his breathing rhythm back in sync with his heart's tempo could he piece together what had happened.

He had gotten the delicious smell of his prey caught in his nostrils, and it had all but driven him to beast-hood. The plan to separate his prey from her flock had been good enough, but in his weak state of mind, he had not accounted for Zoey's own determination to live being stronger then her fear, and surely she had seen he had intended to kill her rather then drive her to fear induced tears; and he had not accounted for her companions determination to protect her. Particularly the bull of the group, Francis, who was no doubt the one who saved her. Had he not jumped away in time, he would have been killed.

He cursed himself for his own weakness. Only inexperienced Hunters, ones who became prey themselves, let their desire to kill control them. A successful hunt was won through careful planning, expert timing, and careful precision; he had done none of those things. If he had a pack, he would have been banished from it, mostly for bothering to come back a failure rather than dying and regaining some of his Hunter's honor. Luckily for him, though, he did not have a pack, and he had no intention of dying anytime soon.

He did intend to kill, though. But that would come soon enough.

_End of Ch.5  
----_

**I think the endings a bit weak, but read immediately before the beginning of the next chapter, like a book, it kinda works. This is also the first chapter ending that won't end with a time skip! Yaaaay.**

**Also, I guess I kinda put Hunter ethics as a mix with Samurai and Wolf Pack kind of beliefs. Anyone think that does, or doesn't fit?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, it's been around a month hasn't it? I'd apologize, if I cared about retaining a fan base at all, but I write for me, so I won't XP**

**I will, however, explain. School started up for me again, so I haven't had much time/motivation/inspiration/energy to write as much as I want to. And I really do want to, but can't, especially consider my recent promotion and increased responsibilities; and it's my senior year!**

**Yah, don't expect me to be all that active this year. On a side note, I'm totally intending for Zoey to sound like a complete nerd in these chapters, if you get that vibe. Considering her back story, she probably is a total nerd. *shifty eyes of 'I totally meant to do that' ness***

**Anyway, without further adue!**

---  
_Cat and Mouse Ch. 6_

Every other time that Hunter had attacked me I had been driven to tears, or paralysis. He had haunted the darkest depths of my nightmares, and I had been nervous of every dark corner we had passed since he first pounced me. So why now, when he actually _intended_ to kill me, instead of toy with me like he usually did, did I feel so calm?

I couldn't explain why, but after Francis knocked the Hunter off me, I simply got back up, like it was any other Hunter attack. I even checked myself for injuries without much pause, only finding a few bruises and small cuts where the Hunter had bitten me. That shocked Francis, who must have been preparing to help me pull myself together, expecting me to go all catatonic like I usually did. I just ignored him, though, and focused on the still attacking Horde.

But as my body went into auto pilot, (why didn't it disturb me that killing zombies became something I didn't need to pay attention too?) I started wondering to myself. T seemed I was getting less and less control over my emotions, particularly fear. When all this had started, and I was just a scared college girl boarded up in my dorm, I had been horrified at the very concept that my movie marathons had come true. Then, when this stalker Hunter had first carved that H into my cheek, I suddenly wasn't scared of the infected, but became horrified by this one Hunter. Now that the Hunter had actually tried to kill me, like any other Hunter, I wasn't even scared of him.

Then it clicked. He had attacked me like any other Hunter! He hadn't acted like the creepy, stalking, predator playing with his prey; he had been a hunger driven monster, just like the rest of them. Now, in my eyes, he was just another Hunter. I smiled, finally free from the fear he had had over me.

By the time I finished my thoughts, the Barricade was burned away, and we could move on. I looked over to the guys, still smiling, not only happy about losing my fear, but that we were also one step closer to our final destination. But my smile left faster then it arrived when I saw the look on my team mates faces. They were looking at me with mixed expressions of awe, confusion, and the one that most disturbed me, and was now the most alienated from me, fear.

"What is it guys?" They had looked at me with awe and confusion before, it came with being a zombie killing college princesses, but why the fear? Then as one, the three of them pointed to my feet, and when I looked down, I gasped. All around me were the corpses of two dozen common infected, and the severed tongue of a Smoker. There was a large puddle of blood pooling around me, and most of that blood was seeping into my shoes. It was only then I became aware of the tingling pain in my shoulder.

"Damn, Zoey, that was fucking badass!" Francis cheered. "Those freaks were all over you, but you took 'em all out like they were nothing! Hell, I think I'm in love." My mouth was dry, but even if I could think of anything to say to that, the shock had numbed all my senses. I had done this single handed?

"You ok, kid?" Bill placing his hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. I looked up at him, and knew he had hesitated to come anywhere near me… but I was glad he did.

"I did this by myself?" I looked from Bill, to Louis, to Francis, who still didn't look like they wanted to come close, despite their praise. "You guys didn't help?" They shook their heads in response.

"Man, girl, it was like you was possessed! Like, you got this look in your eye, you know?" Louis added, a slightly nervous smile spreading across his face.

"And I thought you'd be all cry baby after that Hunter was on you, but damn!" Francis was soon by my side, "To be honest, I didn't think you had it in you." Apparently, he was under the impression that losing control was a good thing as long as a large body count was the result. Louis joining us told me he was thinking that, to an extent, as well. The only who looked like he knew this was a problem, rightfully so, was Bill.

I didn't know what to think of it. I suddenly become the girl without fear and turn into some kind of one-man-zombie-killing-army? That was a lot less assuring then my movie savvy brain told me it should be.

I shook my head. "Yah, congratulate me later, we have to keep moving." Now wasn't the time to go off to La La Land. The barricade was down, and we needed to get to the next safe room! "Whatever I'm dealing with, we can deal with it when we're safe." I whispered that part to Bill; I knew he could take charge and get us moving again. I could sense he still had some hesitations, weather they were about me or for me I couldn't tell, but he nodded and managed to get us moving again, despite his worries.

Beyond the barricade was an ally that was, though littered with a few bodies, uneventful. After a sharp left, the ally opened out onto a street that was blocked off at either end. The only direction we could see to go was foreword, through a field of power conductors… A path that held a lot of blind spots we could be attacked from.

"I don't like this." Bill stated. Francis half-heartedly said something in protest, but there was no life behind it. This big open space was making us all nervous; in our experience, open spaces meant Tanks. "We should scout out the area. If you find anything, scream."

We used this tactic once before, at the Hospital. Everyone splits, looks behind every nook and cranny for any hiding infected waiting to ambush us; if we did find something we couldn't mop up ourselves, we'd scream, and the others would come help. It had never served us wrong before; but then again, I never had a stalker before. Not that I was scared.

I chose to investigate one of the ruined buildings along the edges of the street. They were empty and broken, nothing outside the apocalyptic norm, aside from the lack of shambling infected. Subconsciously, I gripped my dual pistols tightly leaving indents in my skin; I almost wanted that Hunter to attack me. I wanted to enjoy the look on his face when I didn't pla along, and finally, I wanted to shove the fire spitting end of my gun into his blood stained mouth and end his misery.

I heard the soft growl to my right, and id didn't hesitate.

Fast as lightning, faster than him, I whipped to face him, pistol raised, and found my gun jammed in his mouth. He had pounced just as I turned, and he met my gun in the middle. It was my turn to grin evilly, and just when I was about to pull the trigger and end my nightmare, I noticed something. The Hunter didn't have his 'normal' sadistic, taunting look on his face; it was a more worried, concerned look, with a twinge of anger mixed in. (anger that came with someone going through your territory… How did I know that?) At first I thought it was from my not getting caught off guard, but then I heard the tell tale signs.

The thundering stomps, the loud roar, and the defensive gunfire that went along with it. I realized to late what it was, and only as the car crashed through the wall, careening to crush my spine under its front right tire, did the word burst into my head.

Tank!

Of course, I would already be dead long before it mattered. Then the oddest thought drifted through my brain. (Why wasn't I running? Was I excepting of death?) The Hunter hadn't looked at me with fear for his life, he hadn't looked at me with territorial worry that his prey would be claimed by another, but with genuine concern for my safety. Of course, I didn't entertain the thought that he actually cared for me for a second. He wanted to make the killing blow, not some mindless Tank; that was his only concern when it came to me. Even in the face of death, (seconds away from being snapped in half now) it seemed I could still think the most useless things.

And in the blink of an eye, I was safe. I felt thin yet strong arms wrap around me, something punch me in the stomach, and I was flying backwards before smashing against the wall. The car hit nothing but air… and the ground.

I couldn't move. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, the urge to fight, the self appointed duty to protect the guys; none of it mattered anymore. After days of fighting zombies, and living the end of the world, it all finally took its toll. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Then I heard Francis scream, and something primal woke up inside me, and I was up and running for the giant hole in the wall, ready to take on that Tank single handed if I had too. That Hunter, I completely forgot about him, grabbed me by the leg, and I fell face first into the rubble, inches from leaving the decimated building. I barely recognized the hot blood spilling from my broken nose before turning on my back, reaching firmly to blow this bastards head off, and there was nothing. My pistol was gone. (Getting hit by a car makes you drop stuff)

So, there I was, in the position I've gotten myself into half a dozen times in the last few days, staring death in the face as he pinned me down with some fucked up grin on his face. I almost expected myself to be scared; he was being his normal, sadistic, predatory self again, nothing like the mindless monster of a few minutes ago, (was it really just a few minutes? A second was a life time these days.) but I still wasn't scared. Hell, I said to myself, if I was going to die, I wouldn't die his prey!

"I am not your prey." His grin faded into a scowl before I realized I had said that out loud, and his being the stalker Hunter he was, I didn't doubt he understood me. I would have grinned if I didn't think it'd be important to keep my game face on; one that said _**I am not under your control**_.

His scowl turned into a stern look, and that turned into a small smile, and he bent down, and lapped at the blood still dripping from my broken nose.

"Prove." He whispered, pushing something metal into my hands. Then he was gone, as fast and unnoticed as he came. I would have given into what my body wanted and just lay there until the world ended, (too little too late) or to what my brain wanted, and thought about how I could prove I wasn't his prey anymore, but killing a Tank took president over those desires. Getting up, cocking my gun, I ran into the streets and started shooting at the closest giant-mass-of-flesh-that-wouldn't-shut-up I could find. It wasn't until I emptied my second clip of ammo that my ears told me it wasn't making noise anymore. Cautiously, I circled the big lug until I could see him from the front; bullet holes littered his giant chest, his big gaping hole in his neck staring back at – (he didn't have a head, do I really need to describe this?)

Before I could let myself think the obvious conclusion, Francis yelled for a med pack, and I ran for the source of the groans (the none zombie ones.) The guys were pretty beat up, but any complaints about where I was were dried up in their throats when they saw my bloodied face, and the dusty rubble covering me from head to toe.

"Jesus, Zoey, did a building fall down on you?" Francis asked as he used my med pack to patch up Bill. He was closer then he thought.

"I got hit by a car, no big." Bill looked at me with the same look he gave me back at the construction site. I knew he knew, but that didn't mean I had to confirm it out loud. I also had a feeling he noticed where the Hunter had licked me.

"Umm, hey Louis, you need any pills?" He laughed, we all did, and even Bill cracked a grin. I smiled. As long as I wasn't turning pale and craving brains, I was still Zoey. I was a Zoey who blacked out and did crazy shit to survive, and had a stalker Hunter who'd decapitate tanks because he wanted me for himself so bad, but I was still Zoey.

Just a little less college-princesses-zombie-movie-egg-head now.

_End of Ch.6  
----_

**I am master of the ellipses.**

**Ummm, so yah. Zoey's had enough of the Hunter's shit apparently. Cool. Also makes my planned ending a bit easier to get to *insert evil laugh here***


	7. Chapter 7

***Dusts off story***

**And a merry Left 4 Dead 2 to all, and to all a new Xbox Live Gold subscription!**

**Please still be there, loyal fans…**

---  
_Cat and Mouse Ch. 7_

The Hunter licked his fingers clean of the Tank's infected blood. The taste almost made him vomit, but he was desperate to get the taste of Zoey's blood out of his memory. He would not allow himself to become a mindless blood crazy amateur once again; he would surely be killed if he did. He would not be disgraced by dying like that.

Distant gunfire told him that his prey was once again on the move. He grinned at the thought. The girl thought she could rise above her prey status, but take away her gun, and she was just as powerless as before… just not afraid. The Hunter frowned, the distant memory of her fear washing over him made it all the worse when he realized: Hunting her wasn't going to be fun anymore.

The thrill of the chase was still there, but there would be no succulent fear to feed off at the end now. From this point on, the only thing that would come out of hunting Zoey would be a full stomach. The Hunter grunted a nod; that was how it should be anyway. This habit of playing with his good was getting beneath him anyway. She was _prey, _not a _toy_.

The taste of his prey forgotten, the hooded figure listened for gun shots, evaluated their direction, and began his pursuit. A light always seemed to envelop him when he leapt like this, some euphoric feeling left over from his old life, before he evolved, when the feeling of flight filled him with so much freedom. But this time there was nothing. No feeling of freedom, no joy, no light. His leaps were specific, and his face grimly determined. There was nothing joyous to take out of _this_ hunt.

When he caught up to them, they had already made it to one of their protected red-door rooms. He scowled, but figured it was for the best; he wasn't sure if there could have been an opportunity to catch her alone anyway, considering everything that had happened that day. And it was only after thinking about all the events that had transpired that day did he realize how tired he was. Giving into his primal bloodlust, losing his play toy, and decapitating a Tank can be exhausting.

And to think, just last night, he had forced the young girl to tears through a window. Now, things were different.

"Good…" Playing with her like a cat to a ball of yarn wasn't healthy. Hunting was not supposed to be personal, nor was it meant to be fun, despite the enjoyment that came with the pre-kill fear. Hunting was not meant to be a game of cat and mouse, and prey though she was, he was grateful Zoey had made that point clear. The next time he had her in his grasp, pinned underneath him, his claws at her throat, he would not hesitate.

When the Hunter awoke, he did not even remember falling asleep. His growling stomach mixed with the gunshots coming from within the airport, and he couldn't be sure which had 'roused him. He growled in annoyance when he realized that his increased hunger would mean an increased chance that he would give into his bloodlust, a dangerous thing to fall in, considering the males protective instincts towards his prey.

Hunting at all would be difficult from here on. It had occurred to the Hunter before that these might be the last humans to come through his territory for a long time, if even at all, but the full weight of that realization had not hit him until now, his mind to engrossed with hunting for him to think that far ahead. What would he do after this? Zoey's fresh and uninfected blood would fill his belly for a few days, maybe a week, but after that he would not have another hunt of this sort for a good long while.

All these things he pondered as he scaled the building, searching for an entrance he could use. While those were legitimate and troubling worries, the hunt came first. And while he could certainly hear his prey, he could hardly hunt her if he could not pounce her.

The earsplitting sound of a vehicle crashing through debris alerted him that a probable entrance had just been made. The hungry screeches of his lesser cousins filled the air, allowing him to slip in through the rubble without being noticed. He took in the scents of the battle, searching for his prey, and growled pleasantly when he found her, still alive and fighting.

He continued to stalk them, from a distance, waiting for his chance to strike; to deal the killing blow, without hesitation, and end this overly drawn out hunt with her life. Unfortunately, no chance presented itself. Zoey had apparently grown tired of his hunting and realized that he would not approach them if they stayed in a group; which was annoyingly true. It was difficult to keep hidden as they moved through a maze of moving floors, luggage and suitcases strewn about. Ironically, as long as they stayed in a group, he was free to follow them - silently of course.

The maze was oddly quiet as they moved through, and it was putting the Hunter, and his prey, on edge. Silence was rare, and it was only broken by serious threats, usually a Tank. The group moved slowly, cautiously their fingers on their triggers. Whatever broke this silence would surely send fear through their hearts.

The Hunter let out a shriek, the same he normally emitted when he pounced, letting it echo through the maze, causing the four humans to jump and fire wildly in fear. He had to strain himself from laughing; not only at their fear, but that none of their shots had come anywhere close to hitting him, the echo making it impossible to find the origin of his shriek. His amusement left him, however, when he sensed that Zoey was breathing evenly. She hadn't been frightened, but instead seemed to have used that excess adrenaline to fuel her senses; he could feel her looking for him.

He kept himself from growling, but he couldn't stop the anger that boiled through his veins, not only at her for her complete lack of fear for him, but at his own childish behavior. He needed to stop this petty desire for fear from his prey; it was also going to get him killed. He reminded himself of his commitment to ending this hunt he made last night; she was his prey, not his play thing. He shouldn't have to keep reminding himself of that.

Before the inevitable worried stares at Zoey could begin an all together different, and in more ways terrifying, wail echoed through the area. Despite his assurance that he wouldn't endanger the hunt again, the Hunter couldn't' help but grin. The wail was that of a Witch, and the egg shells she'd have his prey walking on would give him the perfect opportunity to strike against his prey.

The pack made their way slowly to the exit of the maze, even more cautious than before, no doubt hoping that the Witch wouldn't be waiting in their path. Unfortunately, but to the Hunters amusement, the Witch stood just before the door leading out of the maze of 'conveyer belts' – as the elder, Bill, had called them. The Hunter was pleased to see the pack at a loss for what to do; either they would startle the Witch, granting him a distraction to attack his prey with, or they would split up and search for another exit, which would be another perfect opportunity for him to strike. He strained his ears to understand what the pack were discussing, and through a combination of his own primal memories and what he had learned since the hunt began, he could understand what they were saying.

"D don't like this," Bill said gruffly, "that Hunter that's been following Zoey is nearby, and now this Witch… I don't know." He said more to himself than to the others.

"I don't see what the problem is!" Francis announced, holding his fire shooter out, "We killed Witches before, we can do it now – along with any wussie Hunters that try to jump out at us."

He couldn't see them from where he was, but he could almost smell the 'Louis' shaking his head. "It won't work, Francis. If we don't all focus on the Witch, she'll get one of us, and if we waste time killing her, the Hunter will… you know."

"I'm not a helpless little girl you know!" Zoey exclaimed. His mouth watered just hearing her voice, and he was only now noticing that her nose had not completely healed yet; she reeked of illness. "It's just a Witch, we'll deal with it like we would any other!" she continued. The males weren't convinced, though.

"Maybe there's a way around?" Louis suggested. "Or, maybe if we go one at a time, we could-"

Zoey cut him off, apparently not satisfied with the suggestion; after all, it was that same plan that got her into one of her more traumatic experiences. Without a word further, she unslung the hunting rifle she favored, took aim, and shot the Witch. The Hunter needn't have looked to know she had hit his female cousin between the eyes, knowing her as only a fellow hunter could.

"Crowned." She muttered, stepping through the stunned looks of the males, over the Witches body, and into the baggage reclaim area. Soon the rest of her pack followed her, and inevitably, an alarm blared, bringing with it the horde. The Hunter did not follow, however. He stayed in his hiding spot, paralyzed by an epiphany. He would never have even considered the possibility that, from the first day when he had carved an H onto her cheek, he would have changed her. He would never have thought that, by marking her as his prey, she would become a hunter as well.

And that is what she is, he thought. She had not evolved, as he had, but instead she had grown, matured even, and suddenly it all made sense. Well, it at least made a little more sense than it used too. She was his equal now, no longer his prey; he could not hunt her.

And with this epiphany came a boiling anger. He had failed his hunt, he had let his prey escape, and now another hunter, with no more experience than a newborn, was hunting on his territory. Any feeling he had felt towards her as a prey were dead. Now she was just another rival for food stealing away from land he had marked as his own. His primal human intelligence were swept away by advanced animal instincts: and they told him to kill her.

_End of Ch.7  
----_

**Wow, it took me 4 months to write this chapter. And this is why I will never be a successful mainstream writer.**

**Anyway, I must honestly apologize for making you all wait so long. I first started writing this story during summer break, when I had a Gold subscription, and plenty of time to use it playing Left 4 Dead with my fellow gamers. When school started, that subscription died, and thus I didn't play the game as much, not that I had a lot of time to anyway.**

**But now, its winter break, L4D2 is out, and even though Zoey is gone, I look forward to pouncing you, my loyal fan base, with the new and redesigned Hunter. Am I the only one who thinks he looks badass? =3**

**An extra special thanks to all of those who kept reviewing and faving this, even though I hadn't updated it in a while. It really was a treat to open my email everyday and see another person had faved and ran.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I have to say, the hardest part about the writing process is the writing part.**

**Luckily, once I finally get started, I can whip this stuff out like that. Just have to keep telling myself "Just one more chapter." to help get me through it.**

… **How come there are never any Witches in the finally levels? If I were the director, I would put one right in front of the escape vehicle. XP**

---  
_Cat and Mouse Ch. 8_

The horde hadn't been as bad as it usually was. That metal detector had been one of the few crescendo events that that stalker Hunter hadn't tried to take advantage of since this whole thing started, which was a good thing and a bad thing for a few different reasons; like how he's probably still watching me right now, and I'll have to wait that much longer to put a bullet between its eyes. I was sick of being that stupid things "prey", and I had sworn to myself that I wasn't going to be that things victim anymore. I was going to _prove it_ alright, in fact I'm setting a personal goal for myself right here, as I stand in this baggage reclaim area, that Hunter will die **today**. I will not leave this airport while that animal still draws breath.

Confident in my objective, I looked around at the others. Louis was whipping Boomer grime off himself, but I was glad to see he didn't have any new scrapes or cuts, meaning we had done a good job of protecting him after he got splattered. I smiled, reminding myself that my teammates came before any personal goal: we all needed to work together, as a team, to get out of this alive.

Francis and Bill were bickering, as usual, about whose mistake it really was that the metal detector went off. Francis had walked right through it, and he knew it, but to his credit we all knew it was his own way of trying to help us get our minds of my little stalker problem. It had worked too; somehow, when we were faced with the horde, all pretenses of individual safety gone, and our brains went on auto pilot, an when that happened nothing mattered but each other safety. I was proud of how close we had all become since we met up, and secretly, even prouder I had become an action girl instead of a damsel in distress. I always hated those "save the girl" movies anyway, so at least I would be able to watch my own movie.

"Guys!" I interrupted the guys before they could really get going. "We should keep moving. I bet a safe room is close, since we're so close to the terminal and all." I said after I had their attention.

"She's right." Louis said after getting the last of the Boomer grime off himself. "If I were setting up a safe room," which he had, it was how we first met, "and it was this close to the terminal, I'd put it in the gateway, since it would let out right onto the runway." After thinking about it for a second, Bill and I nodded in agreement. Louis must have done a lot of traveling in his time, since he knew his way around airports the way he did.

"The hell's a gateway? And aren't we just looking for an airplane to get out of here on? How's running gonna help!?" Francis, on the other hand, was more used to ground transport. We explained that a gateway was the long… tube thing that connected to the airplane to let the passengers on, and that when it wasn't connected to a plane there was a good chance it would at least be a good shortcut onto the runway, which was where all the planes took off from. I wasn't an avid traveler myself, so I left most of the exposition to Louis. I was more focused on watching the corners for a certain hooded bastard.

"Hey Zoey…" Bill tapped me on the shoulder as we walked up the broken escalators, taking advantage of Louis having to hear about how much Francis hates airports to bother me about the Hunter again, no doubt. "You sure you ok? I know you must be under a lot of stress since-"

I was not in the mood though. "Bill, please trust me on this." I said cutting him off. "I'm not some helpless little college girl (anymore), and _that_ Hunter might have gotten to me before, but that was before I remembered he's just another one of those freaks, and the only fear they should give me is the fear of wasting a bullet by putting them out of their misery.

Bill was obviously surprised. That wasn't something I normally said, but hey, like I said, I'm not a helpless little princess. "Zoey, that's what worries me." He sighed deeply, the kind of sigh old people sighed when they're reminded of something. "War changes people, kid," he explained, "and not for the better. You used to be the one of us who always remembered that these creators used to be people, but now, because of this one particular Hunter, you seem to be forgetting that."

I couldn't argue with him on that. I had seen every zombie movie there was, from Night of the Living Dead, to Zombie II (the cheep Italian exploitation of Night) and even 28 Days later, and I knew, these "Infected" were not the movie monsters I had been so entertained by. They were people, with some kind of Rage Virus meets Resident Evil, but they were still people; and it always bothered me that, under different circumstances, we could have been researching a cure, or finding a reason they were so hostile towards immune, or any kind of story at all! But no, we just killed them, or we died. That used to haunt me, but now I didn't care; now it was kill or be killed, and I have not come this far to die here.

"I just don't want what happened to so many of my friends to happen to you, kid. You're too good a person for that." And with that, Bill was done. I let him take point, and I fell in line behind him. I knew he spoke out of love, we had all become like a second family to each other, and I also knew he spoke out of experience, since it was no secret he was a veteran of Vietnam or the Gulf or one of those screwed up wars, and I was also very much aware of how I was changing. I hadn't really thought of the change as negative before; after all, sympathy on the battlefield can get you killed, Bill himself told me that, but now that I thought about it, it worried me. I wasn't going to be fighting forever. At some point, some semblance of normalcy will emerge from all this, and what will life be then?

Not for the first time, I wished I had finished World War Z before it abandoned my dorm.

When we got to the gates, we could see out the mandatory giant airport windows onto the runway. I wasn't surprised to see Infected bumbling around out there, and I knew we were all relieved to see it wasn't infested with the things. Hopefully our escape from here wouldn't be as difficult as our previous campaigns. I noticed Francis had the biggest smile of us all, and I knew that meant he was happy over more than our eventual escape being so close.

I didn't have to wonder about what he was so happy about for long. Following his gaze, I saw he was staring at a Witch crying on top of the wreckage of a plane. The question of how she got on that junk pile distracted me just long enough for Francis to do something stupid, as he often did. The crash of his shotgun going off made all of us jump, and I realized Francis had tried shooting the Witch though the mandatory airport windows!

"Francis, what the hell man!?" Louis yelled, looking about nervously, worried the noise had attracted the horde.

"What? Zoey isn't the only one who gets to cr0wn those bitches." I couldn't tell if he was joking, or if he honestly thought he could have crowned the Witch from this distance.

The guys got into one of their trademark arguments, but I noticed Bill was more interested in analyzing the window then bother with Francis. I tried to see what he was so interested in, but I didn't see anything worth examining in the cracked and bullet hole filled glass. "What is it?" I asked, curious as to what he found so interesting.

He simply shook his head, as if he wasn't sure himself. "Let's just keep moving." He said loud enough to make Francis and Louis stop and get back to business.

There didn't seem to be any Infected on the way to our last safe room, which experience told us would be at the very last gate we could reach, which put us all a bit on edge. Silence was the last thing you wanted: it usually meant a Tank was ready to bust through a wall or something.

I'd have preferred a Tank to what we did find. Francis and myself went to investigate the VIP bar, both of us in great need of something to calm the nerves, and before any of us noticed him, a Boomer vomited all over me. Francis managed to pop it, but the damage was done, and the cries of the horde kick started the guys' auto pilot functions, and it told them they needed to guard me until the luring effects of the vomit wore off.

I was blindly stumbled into the back of the bar, trying desperately to wipe the stuff out of my eyes so I could at least be able to help in my own protection. Unfortunately, when I was able to see again, I saw the Hunter, and he looked about as ready to kill me as I was to kill him.

I didn't have time to think, so I let instinct take over. He was too close for my hunting rifle, so I reached for my pistol. He was faster though, and he was on me before I could react. In the second he had me pinned, time seemed to freeze, and I looked into his eyes, expecting to see that look I had become so familiar with, the one he had when he carved that H onto my cheek. What I saw surprised; he didn't have his normal, almost taunting look, or even the bloodlust filled one he had back at the construction site. In his eyes, I saw only hate, and a cold, unfeeling _need_ to kill me, as if he would not be able to function until I had drawn my last breath. It was different, and shocking, but I wouldn't let myself be scared by him anymore. The rest of our struggle seemed to fast forward, as if time was making up for its second of pause.

I slammed my forehead into his, just missing his nose, but it was enough to knock him off balance. Kicking him off, I rolled to the side, drawing my pistol and aiming for a headshot. He re-acted a split second before me, though, and kicked the gun out of my hands. Without my firearm, I was forced to grapple with him, each of us trying to overpower the other, his goal to pin me and slice open my neck, mine to knock him aside long enough for me to make a grab for my pistol. Were I not so focused on the fight, I would have been surprised at my own strength, but then, I was fighting for my life.

I saw his eye dart to see past my head, and in that moment he tumbled, falling onto his back, dragging me down with him. I was atop him now, and had I the time, I would have laughed at the irony. I tried to break away, make another desperate grab for my gun, but he held me by the wrists, keeping me on top of him. At that second, the only reason I could see for him doing that was so he could pull me down to his mouth and bite out my neck, so of course I struggled, but when I heard a gun cocking behind me, I knew the real reason. He saw the guys coming to save me, and now he realized the only way to not get shot was if I was between the guys' gun and him.

"Zoey, move." Bill's ordered. He wouldn't take the shot, or let the others take it, as long as there was a chance they would hit me, that much I knew. Unfortunately, the Hunter knew it too, so he held me, knowing his very life depended on me staying on top of him. Tug as I might, he wouldn't let go of me. Grunting in frustration, I looked down at him, trying to show him every ounce of hate I had for him in one look, and for a second time, I was surprised by what I saw in his eyes.

His eyes looked pleading, with only the smallest amount of fear necessary for one to have to plead, but it was hidden under a stern look, like he expected something from me. I was surprised enough to be pulled down closer to him, and curious enough to not expect him to sink his teeth into me.

"…Help." He croaked, just loud enough for me to hear. My eyes widened in surprise, and my teeth gritted in anger. Help!? He was asking me to help him get out of this situation alive? After everything he had put me through, did he really think he was appealing to some kind of common decency I had for monsters that stalked and terrified me by asking for help? I almost said all this out loud, but I settled for saying in a look. One he understood completely; which his response to was: "Saved you… Owe me…"

He saved me, and I owed him? I almost asked what delusion had given him that idea, before I remembered the event with the Tank yesterday, just after the construction site incident. He had, indeed, saved my life. Now I held his life in my hands, and he was asking for me to save it as he did mine. I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought to myself one this one thing: What the hell happened to this Hunter since then? His opinion of me had changed since yesterday, just as mine had of him, since I knew the Hunter that had been stalking me all this time would never have pleaded with his "prey" to save his life.

So what happened? The looks he was giving me, it was almost as if he saw me as an equal… or maybe I was delusional. I tried to shake myself back to common sense. Whatever had changed, if anything, this Hunter was still the cause of a lot of problems these last few days, and the whole group would be far better off with the scum wiped off the face of the earth.

Then I remembered what Bill said to me earlier. How war changed people, and that all this had changed how I saw the Infected. A week and a half ago, how would I have seen this Hunter? As a victim maybe? Would I have wondered what changing was like for him? How he saw himself? Would I have wondered what his life had been before being infected, and how it had changed? Would I have wondered, maybe, that I could have saved him once a cure was found, or if we'd have gotten along once some equilibrium was found between the Infected and the Immune?

I frowned. Shaun of the Dead was the last movie I needed to be getting ideas from right now. But it was too late, the thoughts were there, and I remembered the Zoey I used to be would have helped him, weather I owed him one or not. This whole zombie apocalypse may be changing me, but it wouldn't take away my humanity. I looked the Hunter in the eye, and nodded. I would help him. I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw a smile.

Then he threw me off him, and into the guys behind me. For my part, I intentionally fell into them, blocked their aim, whatever I could do to give the Hunter time to leap away. And it worked; the sound of a window crashing told me he'd gotten by leading through the weakened window Francis had shot.

"God damn it!" Francis yelled. "We almost had the fucker!" He looked like he was about to jump through the hole in the window and give chase, but he was out of sight now. None of us could be sure where he was now.

"You ok Zoey?" Bill asked, and I hoped he wouldn't be able to figure out the exchange I had with the Special Infected. I just nodded, and he patted me on the back assuringly. "Sorry we didn't get him. When he threw you at us, we couldn't get a good shot in without accidentally hitting you."

I sighed in relief to myself. Either Bill didn't know, or he knew more than I did, either way I was just happy I didn't have to explain anything. Louis pointed out the safe room right across from the bar, which made me wonder what would have happened if I stumbled into there instead of where I did.

"I need a drink." Francis sighed, grabbing a bottle off the counter, to which I had to concur. We all walked to the safe room in silence. I bit my lip, taking one last look out those giant windows, wondering if I would be able to go through with my personal goal to kill.

_End of Ch.8  
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**Hey, guess what! I finally decided on an ending! =D Any one wanna try a guess on what'll happen? Whoever gets it right gets a free cookie**

**Oh, and props if you knew all my zombie media references. I'm not sure if World War Z is that well known, but I didn't really want to explain it ^^' Google, what would we do without you?**

**Oh, and my PR agent told it would be best to put my Xbox Live account name on my profile in order to let any fans who might be looking for me on the L4D2 servers who to be looking for. It's supposed to increase Fan relations or something, I wasn't really paying attention. In any case, I'll put up my Xbox Live account name for my fellow L4D2 players who might wanna play with me. See you all next update!**


	9. Chapter 9

**At long last, it has come to this.**

**I'd like to thank you all in advance for being more patient then I would have been. I can only hope you feel it was worth it.**

**I do not own L4D ect ect.**

---  
_Cat and Mouse Ch. 9_

He licked his wounds gingerly, wincing every time his tongue ran over the dirty affliction. Some of the glass has cut at him during his escape, and while it was mainly his jacket that suffered from the lacerations, the glass that cut deep enough to get his skin were serious enough to hinder his movements if he didn't try to heal them now. He growled angrily when he looked at the gash, the memory of how he received it making his blood boil.

That he had to ask for assistance from her, a rival alpha Hunter encroaching on his territory, only made his desire to kill her stronger. She had only helped him to repay a favor, the animal part of his brain told him, so they were even; honor demands her death. A small part of him of him thought that a shame. She was strong, a good pack leader, and rivaled him in fighting ability. The more primal part of his being knew these to be the qualities of a perfect mate, but that was not a scenario he allowed to play out. She was a threat to him, and allowing her to live put him in danger, and made him appear weak. She needed to be eliminated.

He looked towards the metal cave the pack she led sheltered in. In a few hours they would make their way to the metal bird he rested atop. He, as well as his fellow infected, ignored the bird for the most part, since they knew any assault would be futile. Nevertheless, there he sat, on top of her final destination, making a dozen plans for how he would end her here, when she would least expect. Which plan he would enact depended on how the final battle between the humans and his kind would play out: Ideally, they would panic and split up, allowing him to end her quickly without worrying about being shot in the back. A Tank appearing, as they usually did at times like these, to occupy the males that made up her pack while they settled their differences, but that had the unique threat of the Tank ripping him apart to get to her.

He shuddered. Taking advantage of a Tank attack would not be the best choice, but if it was his only one…

He considered more options. He wanted to be completely prepared when the time to spill her blood presented itself, whatever its form. He simply had to control his blood lust. The key to ending their final confrontation in his favor was the secret to any good hunt: patience. He grinned, memories of a story he heard in his former life reminding him of this situation. He would hunt the most dangerous game, and just the thought of it sent adrenaline through his infected blood.

The solitary hunter growled, annoyed all the pent up blood lust was going unsatisfied, which would make him sloppy. This hunt needed to go perfectly if he was going to survive; he could not toy with her or attempt to make her afraid of him. Hunters did not feel fear, especially when faced with other Hunters, so it would be a wasted attempt. He needed to be quick, concise, and that would have to be enough for his more animalistic blood cravings.

His hooded head swiveled, his enhanced hearing almost automatically positioning his body to the direction of the gunfire. Her pack was on the move. The Hunter practically shook in anticipation; all he needed to do was wait, and soon his rivals blood would coat his claws.

Sitting atop the metal bird, their destination was not the most inconspicuous place to observe the final battle between the humans, _her_, and his cousins, so he quickly looked about for a better hiding spot. A cave, similar to the one Zoey's pack had been in, was within jumping distance, and it was broken in half meaning he could pounce her from it when the opportunity presented itself. He easily leapt to his new vantage point, eager to watch the coming carnage; though it was his goal to destroy her, there was nothing wrong with admiring a fellow Hunters work. He might even learn something from watching her.

The battle was barely a skirmish really; the only exciting thing that happened was one of the giant birds crashed, fascinating infected and human alike for a few seconds. It was not long before the pack made it through the small number of infected between them and their escape, and the Hunter growled in amusement when he saw the disdain their faces showed at the realization that their bird needed to be fed before it could help them.

Many infected would be attracted to the noise of the birds feeding, and the survivors knew it, so they planned for the inevitable horde. The males took up defensive positions, Francis operating a particularly large fire spitting weapon, and Zoey climbing onto a truck where she could have the perfect position to cover her pack members with her impressive rifle. The Hunter smiled slightly; it was basic hunter strategy to find the best vantage point at an elevated position. She was new to the hunt, but her instincts served her well.

This situation was best for him also, since she was separated, for the most part, from the rest of her group, and if a good enough distraction presented itself it would be easy to attack her without fear of being immediately foiled. Hopefully he could end that finally confrontation without being noticed at all. All he needed was a large enough swarm from the horde, or a Tank.

Bill activated some mechanism, and the bird began its loud feeding process, and within seconds the screams of the horde filled the air. The Hunter grinned, being eager to see how Zoey fared before he found an opportunity to end her.

It was clear to the observing hunter that their pack had been through this kind of last-stand-battle before, and developed a very effective system of fighting: the main horde was focused on by Francis and Louis, who had the small arms capable of destroying the common infected easily without the risk of running out of ammo too quickly; he assumed they were not used to having the giant gun Francis manned, and taking advantage of it made things much easier for them. It seemed that Bill was the one they counted on to do the heavy hitting against a Tank, should one appear, judging by his choice in firearms and the bottles of fire he carried; he also assumed he would be the one to save Zoey should she be targeted by a special infected such as himself since he always kept close and within eyesight of her. This would pose to be an annoyance when he finally found his chance to attack. Zoey was the sniper, and seemed to have the duty of saving the males should they be attacked by one of his own kind, or his closer cousins, which she seemed to do exceedingly well at when the need arose.

The Hunter smiled, amused and satisfied. This pack worked well together, better then any of the others in his domain, and it was a marvel to watch them work together. Far from the prey he hunted says previously, now that they were lead by a Hunter they moved and acted as one, each member of the pack was a separate limb that worked with all the others to be a perfect killing machine. Yet as he watched, admired, and analyzed every detail of how they operated, he couldn't help but chuckle. If you kill the brain, the body dies, and he found the fatal flaw in their system that would give him his chance to destroy her. The chance to strike would be small, and he would have to wait until the last possible second, but failure was not an option. This was his last chance before she slipped away, and his honor would not allow that.

The tell-tale trembles that seemed shook the ground out from under them was all the warning the pack needed to prepare for the Tank. Bill readied one of his bottles-of-fire as everyone else aimed in the direction the source of the tremors seem to originate from. Suddenly though, everything went eerily quiet, and the silence did more to demoralize them then any shake or roar could.

The two alphas saw it first. "Francis! Run!" Zoey shouted. By the time he saw her pointing up, he barely had time to jump out of the way before the slab of concrete crushed his chain gun, but he was not fast enough to avoid it entirely; he screamed out as shrapnel from the destroyed gun made a gash in his leg. The smell of fresh blood sent a surge of adrenaline through the Hunters veins, but he kept it in check until he could act on his primal desires safely.

Though as the Tanks attack played out, he wondered if he shouldn't just take advantage of the chaos now. Bill looked over at Francis to make sure he wasn't beyond help when the Tank took him by surprise and knocked him across the runway. Louis was fixing his comrades leg, but the Tank ignored him, instead focusing on Zoey, whose rifle was going little to slow it down. He contemplated helping her fend it off, or at least attacking once one of the males drew its attention, as they inevitably would; but instead he waited, wondering if he was putting too much faith in the abilities of her pack.

Zoey did her best to fend off the Tank while the rest of her group recovered, but her weapon was not meant to do much harm against such an imposing foe. She needed something more effective, but she wouldn't get it fighting the Tank on top of that truck. She hopped off the back, firing madly to keep the Tanks attention. Even if it seemed hopeless, she needed to keep it from attacking Bill or Francis while they were incapacitated.

Zoey saw her target, so all she had to do was get the Tank close enough, keep it from losing interest in her, stay out of its reach so it wouldn't bash her skull in, and make sure she didn't get taken off guard by the Hunter during it all. Luckily she was used to impossible situations by now, and this wasn't the worst she'd had to deal with. When they were finally in position she spun on her heel, bringing her rifle up to fire; if she missed now, she'd never get a second chance. The Tank raised its fist to smash her into a smear. Before, she would have hesitated, afraid, but now…

She fire, hitting the gasoline canister dead on, the sparks from the bullet igniting the gas and setting the Tank ablaze instantly. The Tank screeched in agony, and suddenly, as if Zoey mentally commanded them to do so, Bill, Francis, and Louis opened fire on the Tank. The combination of being lit on fire, and being filled full of assault rifle, shotgun, and Uzi bullets seemed to make the Tank crumble in on itself. Within seconds it lay there, unmoving, lifeless, burning.

The Hunter had to remind himself to take a breath he was in such awe. He expected at least one of them to die, or for Zoey to have been grievously injured, but such cooperation and pack instinct from the humans under her rule was a grave surprise. He gnawed at the sleeve of his jacket, anxious for the first time since his hunt began. The way she commanded over her pack inspired such loyalty that even when their formation was disturbed they acted as one. That would make things much more difficult; his timing would have to be more than perfect now. He was still confident of course, but the knowledge that if he was not completely precise he would be destroyed, was not a comforting thought. The seed of doubt was difficult to remove once it took root, but he was experienced enough to push such thoughts out of his mind.

He would destroy her, no matter how great her skills were.

Her pack barely had time to heal and re-establish their positions before another wave attacked. They were confident though; the bird was almost done feeding, and they would soon be safe. Their audacity, to forget or ignore his threat would play greatly into her downfall. It would not be long now. The moment the bird was ready for them was the moment he would strike.

He chanced moving to a closer position. Crouching atop the bird's wing, hiding in plain sight, he continued to observe, the group completely ignorant of his presence. Clever, if he did say so himself, for it was the one place they would not look, and the perfect spot for him to pounce from. He grinned as he watched his target fight; even now he couldn't help but admire her. Even with her vast limitations, she still fought with as much skill and determination as any other of his kind, even using her prey-like appearance to her advantage, baiting the Infected to attack her in order to lure them away from her team mates.

A loud rumble and the radio crackling to life chased his thoughts away, and instilled a deep satisfaction in his dark soul. The bird was fed, and the time to attack was now. As if on queue, the loud shrieks of his lesser cousins filled the air, signaling the last full assault on the food before it managed to escape. Who was this lone Hunter to deny such a call? He grinned, leapt, and was only just able to avoid getting hit by a block of cement thrown by a Tank. An awkward mid-air twist allowed him to keep from being crushed, and though humiliating, being trampled by a wave of common infected kept him out of her sight. An annoyed growl escaped him, but he was not dishearten. Only juvenile Hunters were unable to change their plans on the fly, and his mind was already racing to take advantage of the new situation.

Zoey covered her pack mates as they cleared a path to the metal bird, staying on her perch atop the truck. He slashed at a few common infected who tried o climb up to her position, sending the message clear as day: she was his, and he would not be interfered with. He hopped on to the truck, and crouched silently beside her; she didn't notice him at all. The Hunter grinned, allowing himself a moment of confidence, and simply watched her. Finally, his opportunity presented itself.

"I'm not going to die here!" She muttered to herself, in a voice so quiet only the two of them could hear it. And the hunter couldn't resist himself.

"You won't die." He stated. She froze, the last possible situation she might have considered coming true, and the disbelief rocking through her seemed to halt time in its tracks. "I'll kill you first!" She dropped her rifle and pulled out her pistols as she did a ninety-degree pivot, hoping to put a bullet in the hunters brain before he attacked, but he was already on her, the force of his pounce sending them both off the back of the truck. It occurred to Zoey that the guys didn't have her to cover for them anymore, and she wondered if they'd be able to handle the Tank, worn out and injured as they were, without her. Then she noticed the hunter was biting into her shoulder, and she decided that was a more pressing matter.

She bashed her assailant in his temple with the butt of her gun, disorienting him long enough to toss him off her. While the Hunter was her biggest threat right now, she didn't want to get taken from behind by a common infected, so she brought her pistols to bear and shot away at the few who tried to attack her, but she noticed most of them kept their distance. She didn't have to think hard about why. Part of her had hoped he'd leaver her alone, since she helped save his life a few hours ago, but that wasn't how it was going to be. She turned to face him, and saw he was already back on his feet, staring her down.

Two hunters stood, poised for attack, adrenaline pumping through their veins, in-between three dozen common infected, with the sounds of battle and freedom pounding in the background. Zoey did not let him get the first strike in; she got off three shots before he leaped for her and two more before by the time he took her to the ground. He started slashing, and she managed to use her pistols and layered clothing to avoid any major damage, and whatever energy he had was sapped by his wounds, and the multiple injuries he'd sustained over the days opened back up all at once, but even so, he was beginning to overpower her.

Ecstatic over the inevitable outcome of this encounter, he raised his claw to slice open her neck, when something hard and metal was suddenly shoved into his mouth, and his temporary daze allowed her to push him off and crawl away. He growled in annoyance when he recovered, but before he could pounce her again the crowd of common infected around them all began attacking him at once. His confusion was only matched by his anger as he swatted at them, but by their sheer numbers they forced him onto his back and commenced to trash him. Their inferior claws didn't do much to harm him, but a combination of pain from his old wounds and his own shock stunned him into non-movement.

Then he noticed the beeping. He brought his hands to his mouth to find it was a pipe bomb that Zoey had shoved down his throat; he was not altogether surprised by her tactics, so he accounted the rough force in which she crammed the cylinder into him and the stun it caused as the reason it took so long for him to realize what had happened. He yanked the bomb from his mouth and tossed it away, prompting the infected to chase after it and give him some breathing room, so to speak.

It did not take long for him to recover, though his injuries pained him, but no amount of time was too short for him to re-asses his situation. Zoey had, once again, shown incredible skill as a hunter, making up for what she lacked physically with resourceful ingenuity.

The distant death roar of the Tank brought him a new thought to consider: why not let them leave? While Zoey had stained his hunting grounds with her presence, he could see how it was not a voluntary decision, and she was even trying desperately to vacate, their desperation in trying to reach the bird was testament enough to that. But he did not let himself even entertain that thought. As a hunter, he could not allow her to leave alive, and he was sure she had made a similar pledge regarding him. One way or another, there would be one less Hunter in the world, and if he was at all lucky, two less. And now, with his plans in pieces around him, the only chance he had left to kill her was to rely on his primal blood lust he had all but distanced himself from since she wondered into his territory. The only comforting thought his raged and torn body had at this point was that should he fail, at least he would instill in Zoey the final lesson she would need to survive as a new Hunter.

He leapt to the top of the truck to see the pack running to the bird, hope shining in their eyes. If the last joy he felt in this life came from snuffing out that hope, he would not have been disappointed. With the pack in such close proximity on the birds loading ramp, he had no illusions that he was not going to die here; if he could only kill her, at least he could die with his honor intact. As the ramp closed, and with a final scream, he pounced.

Even as the bird closed itself off, sealing him inside, he was satisfied to feel Zoey's body hit the ground under him. They were both weak, but he had the element of surprise on his side, and he poised himself to make the killing strike he'd been denied for so long. His claw raised to finally slice open her jugular, the barrel of a gun was shoved down his throat, his short life flashed before his eyes, and then he knew no more.

_End of Ch. 9  
----_

… **The end?**


	10. Epilogue

---  
_Cat and Mouse Epilogue_

I was shaking when Bill pushed the corpse off of me. It was the first time I'd felt anything close to fear since the construction site incident, and it was more a sense of loss then that. As weird or warped as it may sound, the Hunter had become a constant in my life these past few days, and now not only was he gone, but I could feel the bits of his skull splashed across my face. Charming.

Francis helped me up. "Damn, they ain't tried to jump us when we got to the rescue thing since now, huh? They must be getting stupider!" I was not in the mood for his normally uplifting banter, so I went to inspect the body. Luckily Louis took my place as Francis' audience, allowing me some relatively peaceful catharsis.

It was weird seeing him like this. I knew that just because I had helped him didn't mean he would not attack me again, although I had always hoped it did, I honestly did not expect him to behave the way he had. I had seen a side of him that was still human, and it was painful that the last time I encounter him was when he was filled with that animal bloodlust. I touched the scar on my check: I had hoped our final moments could have been spent as humans, even if we were enemies. But that was unrealistic and slightly creepy, and I should never have allowed myself to hope that in the first place.

In the end, he was a mindless zombie.

"Shame about that," Bill said putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "wish I hadn't had to do it."

"Why?" I asked sincerely, "He's just a zombie! Just another infected, like the rest of them. Why is killing him a shame?" A week ago, I would never have said that, but things change.

"Bill was unimpressed. "Zoey, I had to kill a lot of people back in the war, and I knew I had to do it to keep myself and my unit alive, but I never enjoyed killing another human being. And if you have taught me anything since we met, it's the crucial difference between zombies and infected that makes this here a human corpse, not an undead one."

His mini speech spoke to a part of myself I had buried so I wouldn't be overcome with grief, but even then it wasn't enough to change my mind. This thing at my feet had tried to kill me, and his final act had proved his death was not a bad thing.

"Thing I like about you, kid, is that you can make that kind of distinction and not lose your damn mind." He let his hand fall from my shoulder. "War changes us all, but you're still the movie loving zombie fangirl you were when we met. And while I admit this boy certainly isn't like you and me, he still was somebody, even after he got infected, there was the odd encounter where his humanity shined through." I looked over at Bill in a bit of shock, wondering if he was secretly a mind reader. "What's great about you is you know that better than any one of us. Right?" He said it in a way that it might as well have been myself asking.

This Hunter… when I thought about it, we were a lot alike. We had both been thrust into abnormal situations, and found ways to rise above them. Sure, he wasn't as lucky as I was, but he had definitely been surviving better then the other people we had encountered. But the more I thought about our similarities, the more our differences stood out, and I felt, well, sad. Bill was right: my ability to recognize their human qualities helped me keep my own, and that was probably my greatest strength, or at least what kept me from becoming a sociopath. But this Hunter could not keep that change at bay (the change war brings) and now he was dead, and the last shred of respect I held for him was gone too. You could almost call it tragic. I certainly did.

My hand went to my cheek again, but I stopped it prematurely. There was a lesson to be found here. This Hunter taught me something. He had taught me how to live on my feet, but he also taught me to never let go of my humanity, no matter the circumstances. His inability to remain human had led to his death, and the loss of the only tie to it he had left: me.

"Well fuck that!" I had found a new conviction. I was going to live dam it, that sure hasn't changed, but I was gonna live the best way I possibly could. As myself. I knelt down, took his claw in my hand, and cut my palm with it. One last drop of blood for our animal sides, so we could be fully human wherever it was we were headed. I would never forget him, even if it was in a way I never would have expected.

"Uh, Zoey? You OK, girl?" When I turned around I saw the boys staring at me, and I felt myself blush.

"I'm fine. I was just… thinking about how cute this Hunter might have looked before he got infected." I teased.

"Yuck!" Francis was clearly disgusted. "Ain't that like necrohumping?"

"Hey, I can sympathize. Even an infected would look better than you Francis!"

And just like that, we were all joking around again, ready for whatever life wanted to throw at us. Bill gave me one last worried look of course, but I gave him one back tat said everything was going to be OK. I touched the scar on my cheek one last time.

Yeah, everything was going to be OK.

_End of Story  
----_


End file.
